Drinks
by Kenneth Whit3
Summary: Meet Yurwhen, a refugee from the Jedi purges. On his first trip through Imperial Center, he runs into some very interesting characters.


Drinks

_So this is Imperial Center_, thought Yurwhen as he looked up into the gray sky. In his view, glittering skyscrapers towered over him on the landing platform. The crowded skyways, barely visible above the dull fog that hovered at the tops of the 'scrapers, flowed and ebbed like blood permeating the skin of a massive herbivore. Looking down, he saw more platforms sticking out like the massive leaves of a wroshyr tree. But rather than the natural beauty of a true forest, this planet wide city was angular and very grey; the lower levels didn't even have the pleasure of gaudy billboards to break up the tedium. It seemed like the perfect sort of place a person could get lost in.

_What a pit,_ he thought as he turned from the platform in a swift walk.

The junker that had shuttled him into the depths of the Galactic Capital quickly disappeared in his wake. Yurwhen needed a place to lay low; the ship's owner would not be happy to discover him here, as his idea of "booking passage" usually involved mind manipulation and hiding in a cupboard.

The street just off the landing pad was crowded, like the rest of Coruscant, and Yurwhen was able to quietly lose himself in the mass of alien forms. Shops adorned in bright neon and back lit signs flowed by left and right as he made his way through the lower city.

As he approached a sign that read "Kaspersky Bar and Grill," a small bubble in the rear of his mind grew. The Force was signaling to him again.

Yurwhen looked up at the sign and noticed that its cheap glowpanel fittings were starting to come apart, one of the bulbs flickered on and off, casting odd shadows over the door. He looked down at the building and saw the paint peeling back to reveal bare duraplast.

_Really?_ He asked the Force, disbelieving his own perceptions.

Being Force Sensitive was often like being stuck in a forest with only a compass. It told you where to go, but not what was in the way.

Yurwhen gave a mental shrug as he entered the pub anyway.

Inside, a pair of Mandalorians chatted idly over drinks and dinner, seemingly without a care in the world.

"Look, look, let me explain," said Kar'tan as he spooned a helping of scrambled egg and potato into his mouth, "The T-65 is a classic model. The guys at Incom put a package together that could out-maneuver a Headhunter, out-race an ARC fighter, and overpower a TIE fighter. It's a bit more expensive, but I'd say that the price would be worth it for a strike team, or a planetary defense squadron."

"Alright," replied his compatriot, Cairn, "then why did they make the B-wing?"

"The Alliance started buying those to replace their Y-wing fleets; because, let's be honest, they suck."

"No question."

"Right, only the idiotic thing is that the B-wing is such a complicated design and requires such a skilled pilot that they have to keep using the Y-wing so that their bomber pilots can actually hit anything."

"Hahaha, you're kidding, right?" asked Cairn, who was happily sampling his fried nuna strips between bites of salad.

"No, not at all." replied his partner, "I wonder who came up with that brilliant plan..."

Their conversation quietly died as their attention was drawn to a newcomer at the bar several meters away. Or rather, the newcomer's unwelcome guest.

"Why can't I just get kriffing drink?" Yurwhen quietly asked himself, cursing the nebulous guidance the Force had given him,_ again_. Even if he hadn't been able to feel the thug approaching, the dirty mirror behind the bar painted a clear enough picture.

The man's left eye was definitely cybernetic, its red glow turned heads as he stalked towards Yurwhen. His cranium bore a tattoo of a hawkbat silhouetted by three points of different colored light, marking him as a member of the Three Suns Gang, the apparent controlling party of this section of Coruscant. The Force was tapping on his mind more incessantly the closer the thug got, but it wasn't the sort of tap warning him that danger was approaching. It seemed more like... _opportunity._

The lack of direction within the sensation still annoyed Yurwhen. It was like watching sand fall through an hourglass that had been turned by someone else. There was no way to know what it was timing or what would happen when it ran out, but it was obvious when it did.

He turned to address the looming fellow with a naive look. In reality, he was sizing up the threat that the man represented. All eyes were on the thug. All but three pairs. Yurwhen decided that there was no doubt they were the thug's friends..

Yurwhen knew that if push came to shove, which it almost invariably did for some reason, he would have to end up fighting every gangbanger between here and the senate hall. These things had a way of escalating. This grunt, if he couldn't be reasoned with, would need to be made an example of. It wasn't the most elegant solution, but when dealing with thugs and lowlifes, elegant tended to get bystanders hurt.

"Hey," growled the bald gangster. His voice sounded like a treaded tank being driven over heavy gravel, and it was no small wonder that the thug's employers had made him an enforcer. "You're in the wrong place tonight," he cracked his knuckles, "My boss ain't gonna like small fry like you making this establishment unfit for our comrades."

"I'm not sure what you mean?" Yurwhen said.

"We got certain taxes on Coruscant. Offworlder taxes."

"I'm terribly sorry," Yurwhen said. "Thirty credits, right?"

The thug was caught off guard, but he nodded quickly. Yurwhen handed the man some plastoid chips and used the force to suggest to the thug that they were indeed credits. The gangster shoved them in his pocket without even looking at them.

"And now you need to leave, pretty boy," he said.

Yurwhen couldn't believe his misfortune. He hadn't been on the ground for an hour and he'd already run into what had to be the most unreasonable being on the planet. Regardless, it was best to put on a pleasant face and a posh accent. "Thank you, I try to keep my hair in check these days," He leaned back, resting his elbows on the bar in a casual manner, as if to suggest amiability, "Moving from place to place can be so stressful on one's appearance. Would you like to join me for a drink? I'm sure your boss doesn't mind if you drink on the job..."

His idle chatter had put the enforcer on his back foot, but the bigger man wasn't about to lose face in front of everyone else at the bar.

"Outside." said the thug, as he put his hand on Yurwhen's shoulder.

The thug's touch felt like the last grains of sand tumbling through the aperture of the hourglass.

_Finally,_ thought the slight, blond traveler.

He leaned forward and shot the palm of his left hand straight at the thugs face. The blow was open handed, not really meant to hurt, just to distract. As it landed Yurwhen felt the man's implant shift and grind against flesh. The strike turned out to be more painful than he had intended.

The enforcer took an instinctive step backward and Yurwhen followed. He let his hand glance off the thugs face and snake behind his neck. Despite the lack of hair on his opponent's head, Yurwhen held on like a gundark. Pulling with his left hand he leaped and slammed his knee up into the man's chin.

As the thugs head was thrown back by the knee, Yurwhen pressed his advantage, torquing his torso and slamming his right elbow into the side of the enforcer's head. As he dropped lightly to his feet the thug's unconscious body spun to the floor.

Seats scraped back as one of the thug's friends reacted. The other two were still registering what had happened.

Yurwhen looked at the crowd of patrons as the rest of the enforcer's backup began to stand. Bystanders to the affair quickly looked away. He glanced at the thug's comrades pointedly as he reached down and hauled the gangster to his feet, pulled up another barstool, and sat him down. When Yurwhen grabbed the thug's collar his friends stopped moving.

"Ice for my friend," he said, "and a pint of that green stuff right there." The bartender coughed nervously. Yurwhen rolled his eyes and put an inflection of the force into his voice as he spoke again. "Ice." He could see in the mirror that the other gangsters were watching intently.

Yurwhen took the ragfull of ice the proprietor offered and held it up to the thug's head. He then pointed at the stock of drinks on the wall.

"A pint of whatever that green stuff is," he said. The thug's head was beginning to clear. Yurwhen let him take control of holding the rag and ice to his head. "There you go. Drink's here," he said as the bartender placed a mug full of a frothy green liquid on the bar in front of him.

At the other end of the pub, Kar'tan stared at Cairn in disbelief. His partner's helmeted visage gazed back, equally disappointed. The blond athlete's antics had been impressive, but the fight had only lasted a quarter of a second, and no one else was willing to get in on it, not even the bald man's comrades. Kar'tan grumbled distantly about how no one on this damn planet knew how to start a brawl as he got up from his seat. Cairn bit back the urge to quip that if Kar'tan was so disappointed he should try his luck with the newcomer.

With a shot of adrenaline putting an edge on their attitudes, the Mandalorians stepped up to the far end of the bar signaling that they wanted to pay their tab. While the thug's touch had been the last grain of sand passing from one side of the hourglass to the other, the Mando's signal that they were leaving felt like those last grains hitting the top of the pile. Yurwhen watched them in the mirror, still keeping half an eye on the thug's friends.

Kar'tan counted out the credits to the bartender and as an after thought he added a few extra. The bartender was in the process of thanking him when Kar'tan reached past the man and took a large maroon bottle off the wall before turning away.

Yurwhen watched as the two bounty hunters swaggered past the pub's various patrons, and he decided that perhaps his fortune had changed once again.

XXX

The streets were still densely crowded, and as Yurwhen slipped past the dazed thug's friends, he found a group of slender humanoids with which to blend in. The Force was gently guiding his direction, letting him follow the two Mandalorians without being noticed.

_What's so special about these two?_ he thought amidst the Force currents in his mind._ They're just Mandalorians, brutish and psychotic like the rest. There's no reason..._

He trailed off as the Force pointed him down an empty back alley. The armored figures were barely visible in the distance, and the pulses of intuition forming in his mind gave the impression that they'd be in immediate danger.

_So what if I save them?_ he asked the Force angrily. _**So what** if I **benefit** from it? They'll just go on to rape, pillage, or murder someone else and that will make** me** responsible._ But the feeling was insistent, and while he could choose to ignore it, living on the run for years with only the Force to guide him had taught him that when his connections were this strong, there was _something_ worth investigating.

He dove down the alley after the Mandalorians, wondering what the Force was going to get him into.

Up ahead, Cairn was getting more and more uneasy.

"So where's this 'great opportunity' we're looking for?" he asked cautiously.

Kar'tan responded dismissively. "It's around the corner a few blocks down," he said. "All we have to do is get in, grab the guy, and get out. We'll be back in Keldabe by tomorrow."

"What's to say he won't shoot us the moment we set foot inside the pub?" asked Cairn.

"I've got it handled," Kar'tan said, attempting to placate his partner. "Worst comes to worst, we can just shoot our way in."

Upon saying the words, Kar'tan immediately regretted them. Cairn's gait changed angrily as he walked, and the smaller Mandalorian's voice was filled with no small amount of indignation. "You didn't think of a plan, _did you?_" he asked pointedly.

Kar'tan fumbled for an answer. "Well," he started, but there was a very pregnant pause before he continued. "All we have to do is look tough for the bouncer and we'll get in, no problem."

Cairn sighed and put his palm to his helmet's visor. "Planning is supposed to be your_ thing,_" he said, exasperated. "I'm gonna regret this."

"Just follow my lead; we're a couple of guys out for some drinks," said Kar'tan as they turned the final corner towards their destination, a faded hole-in-the-wall pub that was likely older than either of them and most of their ancestors. "...In the worst part of Imperial Center."

"How do you even pronounce that name?" asked Cairn absentmindedly as he looked at the sign. It read 'Grnnghth's.'

His body had gone on alert the moment the place had come into view. There was no telling how many thugs would be backing up their target, whoever the man was. He was liking this idea less and less, but two things stopped him from turning around; he wasn't going to leave his partner to face this place alone, and worse, there was an allure to a potential barfight that neither of them could pass up.

Kar'tan, however, was not paying attention to his partner's question. He had sized up the bouncer, a burly Trandoshan in a yellow tunic and brown trousers, with massive clawed feet and a purplish scar running across its left 'cheek' that gave it an angry grimace. "Lizards," as Mandos called them, were known mostly as slavers, a career choice that never sat well with either bounty hunter. Kar'tan figured that this particular specimen probably didn't warrant that prejudice, but he let the residual hatred bleed into his composure to help project the image of 'don't mess with me.'

He walked straight up to the Trando bouncer without uttering a word. The lizard stared him down as if trying to read his intentions, but Kar'tan stepped carefully to convey the notion that he was going wherever he pleased. He attempted to cross the threshold of the pub, but the bouncer held out an arm to block his path. Kar'tan slowly turned his head as if to demand that the Trandoshan explain itself; the big lizard then pointed to a sign that read, in basic:

**No Weapons Allowed. Relinquish ALL Blasters and Other Arms at the Door.**

Cairn spoke over the comm to avoid ruining his partner's attempt at silent intimidation. "Good job," he said sarcastically. "Got a backup plan, genius?" He resisted the urge to knock the other man's shoulder.

Kar'tan slowly drew his E-11A and Se-14 from their holsters. "You've still got, like, 20 knives hidden under your plates,_ di'kut,_" he responded as he presented the blasters to the bouncer. "And I doubt that he can smell the detonite in my belt. We'll manage."

Cairn begrudgingly handed off his 434, and the pair of them relinquished all of the knives that were obvious to the Trando bouncer, including Kar'tan's heavy machete and Cairn's spade-hatchet. The lizard worked its jaw in apparent satisfaction and lowered its arm. They were free to enter.

Several meters away, hiding behind a trash container, Yurwhen watched the Mandalorians enter the back-alley establishment. He let out a sigh when they passed the bouncer.

_At least **that** wasn't the threat_, he thought calmly, but there wasn't much he could do to 'protect' the bounty hunters now that they'd gone inside. He'd have to follow or give up completely. It was time to be a little bit more overt with the Force. It was a definite risk on Imperial Center; who knew what the secretive Imperial Security Bureau could pull to identify him as a Force User.

_No choice,_ he thought. _Not if I want to figure out what's so special about these two._

Yurwhen opened himself up to the currents around him. He felt impressions of the Trandoshan's surface thoughts, cold, reptilian, mostly foreign to him. It exuded the general sense that it was marginally bored, but its neural patterns showed it was still alert; clearly, the bouncer had been performing this sort of task for several years, and it was able to stride the fine line between bored alertness and total apathy with a practiced ease.

Alter Mind, or the more colloquial 'Jedi Mind Trick,' would be hard to accomplish on an alien mind like the bouncer's.

After years of hard experience, Yurwhen had learned that many Stormtroopers were easy to fool because they were both human, like him, and had relatively simplistic minds; Yurwhen, like so many others, was unaware of their backgrounds. Most troopers, those that had not been recruited from local populations, had been cloned in glass vats and given rigorous flash training procedures, but such facts wouldn't have surprised him otherwise.

The Force User's time abroad had also taught him that aliens were harder to fool because their minds processed information differently than his; smell was exceptionally difficult for him to replicate. There were a few ways around that, however.

Through the Force, Yurwhen felt the Trandoshan's sensory cluster in its brain. The bulbous region, much larger than a human's, was responsible for gathering information about the world around the lizard, and with the Force, Yurwhen gave it a sharp poke.

The bouncer twitched and fell to the ground, its senses disabled. The Force User sprinted over, slowing just enough to enter the saloon without causing a stir. The burly Trandoshan would be on its feet in a few moments, wondering why it had suddenly ended up on the ground, but since it had not felt, heard, smelled, or seen anything to suggest that it had been attacked, there would not be a fuss. A later visit to a local physician was possible, but unlikely.

The interior of the pub was dimly lit, and Yurwhen hugged the wall in an attempt to be unseen. The Mandalorians had taken a pair of seats in one of the darker corners of the establishment, and even amongst the din of normal pub activity, there was a tense undercurrent in the Force, waiting to break free.

The bounty hunters had unwittingly stepped directly into hostile territory.

Yurwhen considered his options. He could create a distraction at a critical moment, allowing the Mandalorians the time they needed to escape, but the patrons of the establishment would likely bear down on him instead, an unwelcome solution. He could try to warn them, but they would likely dismiss him as a madman, which would not help any of them.

As he took a seat on the opposite side of the pub, Yurwhen tried to remember what Mandalorians were like as a society; he hadn't even heard mention of one since the Clone Wars, and he knew little about their culture beyond their predisposition towards mercenary work and bounty hunting._ Maybe they're here to start a fight,_ he thought shrewdly. Then he saw what was making the Force swirl and boil in all around the room.

A head turned, a hand rose, and Yurwhen saw the allegiances of the crowd in front of him, clear as day, through the Force. This pub was on neutral territory for a pair of rival gangs, hence the No Weapons sign in front of the door and the armed bartender. These thugs, Rodian, Zabrak, Trandoshan, and Human alike were just itching for a chance to show the other side what they could do, even without their guns.

Yurwhen saw the currents in the Force and understood what it wanted him to do.

He was going to have to start this fight himself.

Across the pub, the two Mandalorians sat patiently for an opportunity to grab their target.

"See the big one there?" asked Kar'tan as he pointed towards a very heavily scarred Zabrak sitting amongst his compatriots. Cairn nodded.

"That's our man," Kar'tan finished.

"So, now what?" Cairn asked, impatient. He was beginning to catch an unsettling vibe from the other patrons. There was clearly more to this place than met the eye.

"Now we wait for an opportunity," said Kar'tan. "He's going to have to leave or take a leak at some point, and when he does, we'll grab him."

"That doesn't explain-" Cairn cut himself off. He noticed something in the dark across the bar. "Is that the scrawny guy from Kaspersky's? In the far booth."

Kar'tan paused to look where his partner directed. "Hmm... Looks like him," he said warily. "You think he followed us?"

"Maybe," replied Cairn. There was a momentary silence.

"Doesn't matter now," Kar'tan interjected, nudging his partner. "Cairn, we're gonna have company."

From one of the tables, a large human lifted himself out of his chair and began stalking towards the pair of Mandalorians in the same way the thug in Kaspersky's had approached the now-forgotten little man.

The thug was halfway across the pub when something odd happened. A phantom, a shadow,_ something_ hit the large human on the rear of his head. The man stumbled and stopped walking. When he regained his composure, he turned and looked behind him for the guilty party that had thrown the whatever at him. The thug looked down, decided that the patron closest to him was a guilty enough party, and hauled the seated gangster out of his chair.

The entire pub, easily sixty men, tensed as time seemed to pass more slowly. The large human changed his grip on his victim and tossed him directly onto another group of patrons, breaking bottles and plates as he crashed down onto the duraplast table.

Like the keystone falling out of a dam, the sudden act caused all hell to break loose.

Gangsters rose from their seats, armed with broken bottles, table legs, and concealed knives as the interior of the pub began to drown in chaos. The bartender brought a scatter gun up from under the bar and pointed it at the ceiling. A sharp click emanated from the weapon that was all but lost in the noise of the fight. The man brought the particle cannon down for inspection, but before he could do anything to reactivate it, a body awkwardly soared into him from the opposite direction of the bounty hunters' booth.

Kar'tan, who had been waiting for a moment like this for some time, mounted the table in front of him and dove into the fray. The only way they were going to get their target now would be to forcibly drag him out, and that suited him just fine. Cairn was close behind his partner; the smaller Mandalorian grabbed a tray from atop a garbage receptacle and went to town on the nearest gangster he could find. Whichever side won this fight wouldn't matter, but Cairn made sure to batter their target's friends all the harder, just to be sure.

Across the bar and under a table, Yurwhen observed the results of his efforts unfolding. The well-placed nudge with the Force was enough to get them started, and disabling the bartender's weapon was even simpler. Now that they were free of their enforced restraints, the gangs could fight with abandon. It was only when he saw the pair of Mandalorians, the men he'd been trying to save from this madness, enter the chaos of the miniature gang war that Yurwhen placed a hand on his forehead in exasperation. He should have seen this coming when he decided to help a pair of hooligans from a warrior culture.

As the fight continued, Yurwhen watched as hands were smashed, legs, both inanimate and alive, were broken, and heads were cracked together. The smaller of the two Mandalorians discarded his metal tray and dove behind the bar while the larger grabbed the nearest thug and tossed him into a gaggle of opposing gangsters. The man landed squarely on his back amidst the crowd of thugs and was kicked savagely a number of times before he managed to scramble away. Unfortunately, he chose the bar as his destination. Yurwhen could not hear anything over the roar of the fight, but he sensed the man's consciousness dim when he ran into the Mandalorian already there.

Kar'tan Venn broke off from the main group of violent gangsters and launched himself at a lone thug, this one wielding a leg off a durasteel table. The metal could break bones if it impacted correctly, so Kar'tan didn't give the thug the chance. His left hand struck first in a backhanded blow, using the_ Beskar_gauntlet hidden by his duster to stun the man, then he followed through with his right fist into the thug's kidney. The man crumpled to the ground as the Mandalorian stepped past to the next victim, but his primary target was a ranking member of the gang, and while most of the gangsters were busy engaging thugs from the opposite crew, the Zabrak motioned for back up, and got it.

Arrayed against Kar'tan were five of the most intimidating thugs his target could call upon, and as he brought up his guard, the Mandalorian watched the Zabrak join them._ This is going to be fun,_ he thought with an unseen smile.

The first thug, a burly rodian, approached and threw a wild left hook that Kar'tan blocked with his armored forearm. The alien winced as his wrist impacted cold _Beskar_ and Kar'tan followed up with a fist to his pelvis. The rodian took a staggering step back as his hip throbbed in pain, and Kar'tan dropped to his left knee and smashed the thug's femur over it with his right elbow. The alien dropped to the floor, out of the fight.

The Zabrak was visibly impressed, if his scarred visage was anything to go by, and he signaled his remaining associates; the five gangsters moved in all at once. Kar'tan changed tactics; since singling out his opponents was no longer an option, he had to both strike quickly and keep them out of reach. Behind the folds of his duster, the Mandalorian ejected a gauntlet blade.

Behind the bar, Cairn was enjoying the plethora of idiots that had decided to come charging after him. Clearly they wanted the bartender's scatter gun in an attempt to gain the upper hand, but Cairn wasn't having any of it. The gun was _his_ responsibility now; moreover, he needed the fight to go on as long as possible to cover Kar'tan's smash and grab.

The Mandalorian recognized the usefulness of the bar as cover and had taken up throwing containers of alcohol as his initial deterrent. A bright red bottle flew out from the shelf and impacted an approaching gangster in the forehead, concussing him. A blue one struck another thug's ear, dazing him enough to be caught off guard by a closer opponent's haymaker.

Through the dim lighting and the haze and turmoil of the fight, Cairn kept an eye on his partner. Kar'tan was near their target, but four men, working in concert, kept blocking him. He watched as his partner slashed the chest of the nearest assailant with a gauntlet knife. The first victim would be out of the fight for as long as it took his adrenaline to block out the pain, but another man approached from behind as Kar'tan was preoccupied. This one would likely go for his partner's helmet, a useless move at best, the interior was padded well enough to prevent stunning and concussions from most impacts, but there couldn't be a chance that Kar'tan would lose this fight.

Cairn grabbed the nearest container, a bright green durasteel can, and threw it with pinpoint accuracy at the lurking thug. The can struck the thug's left temple, stunning him. Kar'tan heard the man cry out and turned around, jamming his ejected blade into the man's forward leg. The vibroknife luckily missed the femoral artery, but the sharp point and ultrasonic sawing let the blade carve right through bone.

In that moment, a hand reached for Cairn's slung scatter gun. The Mandalorian blocked the arm and grabbed the sleeve it was hiding in. Now that he had some leverage, Cairn pulled hard on the attached thug. The man's head knocked into the bar's drink dispensor and he went limp. Cairn let go as the gangster fell backwards onto the floor. He turned to check on Kar'tan again, but was ambushed by another two thugs. A bottle swung out first, shattering and concussing one gangster, but the other got his hands on Cairn's plates.

Still doing his best to stay out of the fight, Yurwhen watched as the smaller Mando grabbed his assailant's tunic and smashed the thug into his helmet. _**That** looked like it hurt,_ Yurwhen thought, sympathetically wincing. The black-armored Mandalorian tossed the thug back over the bar and readied for another attacker, his mind focusing like a sniper rifle on each assailant's weakpoints. The next two thugs to approach were systematically derailed as the man threw an amber bottle to stun a more distant target, then ducked a blow from the closer gangster and brought his armored elbow into the man's chin. Yurwhen watched as the bounty hunter hauled the unconscious thug onto his side of the bar before turning his extra-preceptory senses back towards the bigger Mandalorian. Both of his glove-blades ejected, the man fought in an intense balance of white-hot emotion and ice cold precision. His shifting mind raced from point to point like a pinball, gaining momentum everytime he struck another target. A thug pushed forward and received a slash across the shoulder, when he reeled, a kick landed on his gut, pushing him back, prompting another thug to try his luck. The Mandalorian's fist came down like a hammer, stunning the victim, but his momentum carried him into the bounty hunter's arms. The big man pivoted, wheeling around and sending his opponent crashing into a booth.

Despite his dervish-like flow, the man was extremely careful not to hit a specific thug, a Zabrak with a multitude of scars on its face. Yurwhen, open to the Force, saw how its currents linked the Mandalorians with the gangster, lines of intent passing through their actions. _Mandalorians **are** known as bounty hunters,_ he reasoned. _They must be here for him._

The thought soon evaporated, as the boiling havoc inside the pub was greeted with the arrival of the Trandoshan bouncer and its much more alien mind. The burly reptilian emitted a low growl as it waded into the fray, knocking gangsters left and right with its massive clawed hands. Curiously, the Trandoshan avoided the bar, with the possibly-nonfunctional scatter gun, heading instead for the larger Mandalorian.

Clearly, the alien associated the current chaos with the most recent occupant; Yurwhen grimaced in displeasure. _Terrific_, he thought as he began thinking of ways to prod the fight against the bouncer. There had to be some means to distract it indirectly or perhaps get the gangs to fight it, but he was interrupted by the Force as it nudged his intuition again. A moment later, the path became clear: to gain the Mandalorians' trust, he needed to demonstrate aggression and skill for them in the same way that he had demonstrated practicality before. He had to take the bouncer out _now._

The Force User wriggled out from under the table and deftly maneuvered along the wall towards where the large Mandalorian was busy fighting. The armored man had managed to cut one of his opponents nearly to ribbons, but with the exception of the man with the broken femur, the others had managed to avoid most of the deep wounds that his vibroknives could inflict.

Yurwhen flowed with the Force as he avoided the various struggling gangsters delivering ham-fisted blows into each others' faces. The massive crowding of the pub meant that most of them didn't notice him, and the one man that did was immediately rewarded with a sharp knock against the jaw for his troubles. The gangster stumbled back, stunned by the impact to his trigeminal nerve, into a member of the opposing gang, and his attention quickly moved elsewhere.

The Trandoshan bouncer, slowed as it was by the need to plow directly through the multitude of fights in its path, was nearly at the fight between the large Mandalorian and the scarred Zabrak's thugs. Yurwhen watched as the burly reptilian stretched out a massive claw towards one of the men circled around their armored opponent. The Force User made a grab for the nearest toss-able weapon he could find, on a table near him sat a relatively untouched bottle of spiced sauce.

The grab became a slap, but with the force, he was able to guide it's path where it needed to go. Time seemed to crawl as the bottle, its red-and-white label declaring it to be Baactos, spiraled through the air like a homing missile, directly into the Trando's right nostril. The transparent bottle shattered, and the spicy liquid stung the lizard's sensitive nasal chambers like a rogue fire wasp, if its reeling was anything to go by. The Trandoshan pulled its massive hand back to vehemently claw at its face. It ducked and shook its head in an attempt to remove the burning liquid from its nasal passages while its claws continued to wipe away as much moisture as possible.

In the time it spent regaining its composure, the Trando flailed haphazardly, forcing several of the men that had been on the approach to take defensive positions, but Yurwhen pressed the attack. Launching out from the wall, he leapt onto the bouncer's back and smashed his palms against the lizard's rapidly shifting eyes. The force of the blows wouldn't seriously hurt the Trandoshan, but the organs were extremely sensitive, and the sudden pressure sent a shockwave through its nerves, stunning it in a similar way that the 'sharp poke' had earlier.

Behind the Force User, Kar'tan Venn was getting ready to jam one of his blades into another thug's leg when he looked up to see the bouncer crash onto his chosen victim. Atop the lizard's head sat the slim figure he'd recognized from Kaspersky's. His adrenaline infused mind noted that the little man must have had a massive influx of testosterone to think that taking on easily the biggest entity in the pub was a good idea. The unfortunate thug collapsed under the combined weight of the Trando and its rider and smashed his head against a chair, knocking him out cold. Kar'tan saw the scrawny man's arm underneath the lizard's neck in a choke hold and his legs clamped around its torso. The Trandoshan wasn't fighting back, but the Mandalorian didn't have the time to speculate why as he turned to face his two remaining opponents. The last thug helping the Zabrak had grabbed an open bottle of Dubserwei Ale and was mid swing when Kar'tan looked at him. The empty bottle connected with his helmet and shattered, while the thug's hand continued past Kar'tan as he over-swung.

An armored boot slammed into the thug's pelvis as Kar'tan kicked low. His hip shattered and the man fell to the ground, writhing in pain; only the Zabrak remained. Kar'tan retracted his gauntlet blades as he took a few quick strides to his target. Not taking any time to defend himself, Kar'tan put his weight and speed into a heavy right hook that connected with the gangster's face. The Zabrak spun in place and went down, hard, as Kar'tan turned to the bouncer and its slim assailant. The small man had managed to hang on long enough to keep it in the choke hold. The Trando was slowly starving of oxygen.

"Come on Cairn," Kar'tan said into his com, "let's grab our man and get out of here."

"And I was just starting to have fun, too," his partner replied.

Kar'tan smirked and reached down. He grabbed the semi-conscious Zabrak first and hauled him off by the collar. As he headed for the door, he held up the slim man by the tunic and said, very calmly, "You're coming with me."

XXX

Outside, Cairn covered his partner as they exited the pub. The larger man had two others under his arms; it made him look like a farmer carrying bales of hay to a nearby market for trade.

"Let's grab our kit and get out of here," Kar'tan said.

Cairn nodded and pointed the scattergun at the lock on the bin with the collected weapons. As he pulled the trigger, the slim, blonde man spoke up.

"I can walk, you big brute!" he shouted as he tried to wriggle free of Kar'tan's grasp.

"Easy, _easy_," Kar'tan said as he calmly set down his squirming passenger. "I'm just getting you out alive. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Yurwhen, thrown by the suddenly gentle nature of the man who had been savagely pummeling half a dozen gangsters mere moments before.

Cairn opened the locker as their guest regained his bearings and Kar'tan began to check the vitals of their target. His search for their equipment was easy, most of it was on top, except for the knives, which had fallen to the bottom. Cairn had handed over more than half of his collection, and he needed to find every last blade.

His search revealed that the cabinet had all manner of interesting and probably illegal pistols and sawed down rifles. Disruptors, high-energy ballistic weapons, flechette cannons, and more filled the shelves. _These gangs are better equipped than I had imagined,_ Cairn thought. _That fight would have ended quickly with **any** of these in play._

When he was done, he turned to his partner.

"Hey Kar'tan," he interrupted. "See anything you like?"

As Kar'tan busied himself with a quick inspection, the small man assumed a look of confusion.

"You're just going to take it?" he asked.

"Yeah," Cairn replied with a visible shrug. "It's not like the _chakaars_ obtained them legally anyhow."

"Well, it's..." the small man seemed to reconsider his position. "Never mind."

The din coming from inside the pub was beginning to peter out. The fight was probably almost over, and it would be finished for certain when the sounds of combat were replaced by cheering from one side or the other.

Kar'tan obviously noticed it, too. "I've got the target; grab this one for me," he said hurriedly as he pointed to a matte black pistol. Its long barrel was ribbed with heat sinks down either side and it had a molded grip with a three-quarter trigger. "It's a Westar-47, one of the better pistols you can't find anymore."

Cairn grabbed the blaster and his own selection, a different scattergun -he'd tossed the bartender's back into the pile- and closed the locker. As they hauled their catch away from the pub, Cairn heard the distinct sound of cheering from inside; Kar'tan quickly made a left into an alley and the others followed him.

XXX

In the silence of their run from the back end of Coruscant's streets, Kar'tan had a moment to think. As they reached a somewhat more reputable area, they slowed to a walk, and something crashed into his thoughts that he hadn't noticed before.

"Hey, blondie," he said.

"Yurwhen," came a reply.

"Yurwhen, right. I'm Kar'tan, this is Cairn," said Kar'tan as he gestured to himself and his partner.

Pleasantries over, he coughed lightly and began again, "I was wondering; you were on that end of the pub, did you see who threw the... _whatever-it-was_ that started the fight?"

"Oh, yeah," said Yurwhen. He paused for a moment as if searching for the right answer. "That was me."

"That was you." Cairn said, deadpan. He didn't believe it either.

"Yes." Yurwhen replied.

"Alright, I'll bite," said Kar'tan. "But explain this, why did you stop a fight in Kaspersky's, follow us across town, and then _start_ a fight in Gr- another pub?"

Yurwhen hesitated again.

"I, uh..." he began. "I could tell that you guys were looking for a fight, and wanted to help you grab your bounty. Why else would you have dinner and drinks at one restaurant and then go to a completely different bar in probably the worst part of Imperial Center?"

"How did you know we were looking for a bounty?" asked Cairn very pointedly.

"Isn't that what all of you do?" Yurwhen asked.

Cairn stopped and got very close to their guest, visor to eyes. "'S matter of fact, no. We_ don't_."

"Alright," said Yurwhen, not blinking or shying away, "I got it. You don't have to tear my head off."

Under his helmet, Kar'tan raised his eyebrows; Yurwhen's nerve was impressive. "_Udesii_ Cairn," he said, putting his free arm on his partner in a placating gesture. "We'll cure his ignorance soon enough."

Cairn canted his helmet slightly, questioningly; Kar'tan nodded back, and they continued walking.

"Fair enough, Yurwhen, are you good at anything other than subduing Lizard bouncers?" Kar'tan asked.

"I'm good with repulsors," replied Yurwhen, "The small ones on wind skiffs need lots of maintenance."

"Not bad," Kar'tan said as they approached the bounty office. "I think we can work with that."

The Imperial Criminal Retrieval Office for IC Sector 82-Z was almost literally lined with Stormtroopers, like wallpaper. The long hallways were a rather stark combination of black and white, and individual rooms had increasingly specific bureaucratic titles like "Minister for the Collection of Properties exceeding 860 credits" and "Vice Minister for the Distribution of Collected Assets of The Accused, value exceeding 10,000 credits."

"Imperial Bureaucracy at its finest, eh Yurwhen?" Kar'tan nudged the slim man.

His response was a rather distracted, "Yeah," which Kar'tan didn't pay much attention to. Stormtroopers en mass could be a little overwhelming on first sight, and the Bounty Hunters had more important concerns, like where to haul their catch.

"Here it is," said Cairn as he pointed at a door simply marked 'Bounty Retrieval: Primary.'

Kar'tan marveled at his partner's ability to navigate anything Imperial other than a barracks for likely the thousandth time as they entered the room.

The proceedings took over an hour as they shuffled from room to room, unconscious gangster in tow. After they were sorted into the final office and signed the last bit of paperwork in preparation for the hand off of their target, Kar'tan gave Yurwhen a light tap on the shoulder.

"You alright?" he asked as he extended his hand.

"Yeah," replied Yurwhen. "What's this?"

"Your cut." Kar'tan said as he dropped the credit chit into Yurwhen's open palm. "You helped us, and I was sufficiently entertained for the evening, so here you go."

Yurwhen's blue eyes filled with scrutiny. "You're just giving it to me?"

"Yeah, you did your part, you get your cut," said Kar'tan, wondering what was the man's problem. He seemed distracted, and at the same time, very intent on staying close to them. It was almost as if he was expecting an attack.

Yurwhen pocketed the credits with a decidedly neutral expression and turned to leave.

Kar'tan was filled with a rather odd feeling that letting him go would be a terrible idea. He'd had the strange bursts of intuition before; they were cues to act.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Cairn looked over; his helmet again canted in curiosity. Kar'tan waggled his head in his code for 'trust me.' Cairn shrugged and returned to paperwork; the bounty hand-off was almost ready.

Yurwhen turned back to the big Mandalorian; the look on his face said he had no idea what to expect. "I was gonna head off. Get back to... wherever," he said somewhat listlessly.

"Nowhere?" asked Kar'tan. He had a suspicion of an answer.

"Yeah, nowhere," came the reply. The words seemed unnatural and forced, as though he was ashamed.

"You can stay if you like," said Kar'tan. "My partner and I could use an extra pair of hands."

"You're sure?" asked Yurwhen. "And you _won't_ gut me in my sleep?"

"I won't if you're not into it," Kar'tan replied, deadpan, as he held out his hand.

"Deal." Yurwhen said as he reached for the outstretched arm. Kar'tan grabbed his wrist in a Mando Handshake.


End file.
